There was no mistaking the situation. The ladies and their armed attendants had been assailed by a stronger and more numerous band—either the servants of some turbulent and rascally baron or a party of men acting for their own profit, for armed robbers swarmed on French soil during the troublous feud betwixt the Orleanist and Burgundian factions.
Even the timely arrival of the Englishmen did not have the effect of causing the assailants to beat a hasty retreat. Instead they held their ground, striving by a supreme effort to beat down the slender ring of steel that surrounded the crouching figure in the centre.
In an instant Arnold Gripwell had launched himself into the thickest of the press. The long two-handed sword flashed, sweeping and thrusting with the skill and force of long usage.
Nor were the three lads backward in their efforts. The young heir of Warblington, carried away by the heat of the fight—even though 'twas the first time he had crossed steel in action—found himself confronted by a tall, lithe rascal clad in a padded leather coat and flowing gabardine, and armed with a short, heavy sword.
Avoiding a powerful downward cut, Geoffrey sprang lightly aside, his antagonist's blade missing his left shoulder by a hair's breadth. With a swift lunge the lad wounded his foe in the neck, but was almost immediately repaid by a cut that, falling short, gashed his face.
Ere the man could recover himself Geoffrey's blade sped home, and at the same time Oswald succeeded in cutting down his opponent.
Of what happened during the next few minutes Sir Oliver's son had but a confused knowledge; but the rogues had suffered severely, and already most of them who were uninjured were seeking safety in flight.
Of the two men who guarded the elder woman, one had taken to his heels, but the other, pushing his captive in front of him, stood, crossbow to shoulder, seeking to cover his comrade's flight.
Stung to fury by his wound, Geoffrey cast all discretion to the winds. Calling Oswald to follow him, he dashed towards the cross-bowman, heedless of the menacing weapon that was aimed full at his body, though he was protected neither by shield nor breastplate.
The woman saw the danger to which her would-be rescuer was exposed, and, adroitly slipping to the ground, she drew a small dagger and plunged it to the hilt into her captor's side. With a yell of pain the man dropped his cross-bow, pressed his hand to his wound, and turned to flee. But Geoffrey's blade swung through the air, and with a shriek the robber fell dead.